Encore
by Rilina
Summary: Miriallia's career as a photojournalist takes her farther than she ever expected--to PLANT. A companion fic to my story "Between the Acts."


**Spoilers:** For the ending of GSD, including some scenes from the special edition ending, though mostly obliquely

**Summary: **Miriallia's career as a photojournalist takes her farther than she ever expected. Long postscript to "Between the Acts," my previous GS fic; reading that will probably help this make sense.

**Notes: **This didn't make sense thematically as the ending of "Between the Acts." That said, even though my heart is sometimes two sizes too small, I actually do have a good deal of affection for the pairing in question.

#

When the second war's over, it's surprisingly easy for Miriallia to resume her old life as a photojournalist. A quick phone call upon returning to Orb reconnects her with her editor at _The Sentinel, _and he doesn't question any of her white lies about what she's been doing for the last few months.

"We feared the worst when we couldn't get in touch with you," he tells her, sounding like her parents. "What happened?"

"I got stuck in Turkey, because the fighting made travel impossible. But I'm back and ready to work. Do you have any jobs for me?"

"That depends. I have a plum assignment, but everyone else has turned me down. _Can't_ do it, they say, which probably is their polite way of saying they just _won't_."

Her interest's immediately piqued. Freelancers aren't known for being picky, and she wonders what could make so many of them turn down a job. "Try me."

"I need someone to cover the latest happenings on the PLANT Supreme Council. Rumor has it that the new chairperson will be announced in the next few days."

Miriallia's suddenly glad the connection is audio only; she's sure her amusement is written all over her face. For once, rumor is right on the money. "You're in luck, chief," she says, keeping her voice level with a heroic effort. "Get me a press badge, and I'll get you a story. Maybe even an exclusive."

"You sound awfully confident," he says. "Are you even sure you can get there in time? It's not a short trip, and the announcement's expected soon."

"Oh, I might be able to pull some strings."

Two days later, she accompanies Athrun and Kira on an Orb shuttle to PLANT.

#

Lacus's first press conference as chairwoman of the PLANT Supreme Council is a resounding success, which comes as no surprise to anyone familiar with her work during the two wars. Miriallia jostles shoulders with the other photographers in the press room as she snaps pictures of Lacus at the podium, who is poised and perfect in her long black robe. The photographs are more for form's sake than anything else; Miriallia will take the ones that will make her editor gleeful during the private interview she has scheduled for the following day. Having connections high within ZAFT--namely, Kira Yamato--is a useful thing for an Orb photojournalist.

Lacus is patiently answering yet another stupid question when Miriallia decides she's had enough and slips out of the press room. She's making her way toward the building's main exit when she hears running footsteps and a familiar voice calling her name. With a small sigh, she turns and waits until Dearka catches up with her. She'd seen him at the press conference, of course, standing beside Yzak Joule at Lacus's right shoulder, but she hadn't realized he'd seen her in the bustling crowd.

"It _is_ you," he says, between gulps for air. "Miriallia Haw, in the flesh, on Aprilius One."

"Hello, Dearka." His ZAFT blacks suit him, she thinks, though he seems far too young to be wearing them. Dearka as a commander--what a ridiculous notion. Then again, given how much of ZAFT's leadership died when Messiah blew, perhaps his promotion was inevitable. "I see they haven't given back your red uniform."

"Somehow I don't think that's going to happen now." He tugs at the sleeves of his uniform coat a bit self-consciously, as if he can guess what she's thinking. "It's been a long time."

"So it has," she says, voice neutral.

His eyes flick to her press badge. "You work for_ The Orb Sentinel_ now?"

"And others, on occasion. I freelance."

"You must be doing well for yourself, if someone likes your work enough to send you here. You've been okay?"

She shrugs. "Well, I survived the war, didn't I?"

He stares at her. "Don't tell me you were on the Archangel again."

"I hope a mobile suit pilot isn't about to lecture me about doing dangerous things, because I would have to laugh at the hypocrisy. Where else would I have been during the war?" She starts walking again; he falls into step beside her. "And what do you want?"

"I just wanted to see if it was true. I couldn't believe my eyes back there. You're the last person I ever expected to see in PLANT."

She'd forgotten about that long ago conversation. He evidently hadn't. "It was a long war," she tells him, aware that it's not much of an explanation, just shorthand for I_ changed_ and _The universe did too_. It will have to suffice for now; she's exhausted, and not just because of the time shift from Orb. It's the long letdown of peace again, the absence of all the adrenaline that carried her through double shifts on the CIC and surveillance at military installations all around Europe. "Look, I'm tired. I want to go back to my hotel and sleep the clock around. Can we continue this conversation some other time?"

"Can we?" He steps in front of her, blocking her path so she has to look him in the face. "You tell me."

It's not something he would have said in the past. Back in Orb, he would have just accepted her rebuff with the equanimity that made him such an expert in handling Yzak. "I'll be interviewing Lacus tomorrow. You could find me afterward if you want to catch up."

"Okay, tomorrow." She steps around him and heads toward the exit; this time he doesn't follow. The automatic doors slide open before her. But as she walks out, into the bright morning sun, she hears him call after her, "It's good to see you again, Miriallia."

_Idiot, _she thinks. Behind her, the doors whirr closed.

#

Miriallia decides that Lacus is the most cooperative interview subject that she'll ever meet. And once Miriallia has the photographs and quotes she needs for her article, the two women drop the formalities and settle down for a friendly tea, joined by Kira and Mr. Pink. The former's smiling but uncomfortable in his new ZAFT uniform, while the latter is in prime form, screaming inane phrases as he bounces off the walls. The whole setup reminds Miriallia of a visit she paid to Reverend Malchio's island before Junius 7 fell, before everything went crazy all over again. Back then, the domesticity had felt a little forced. It's still strange now, but only in a way that makes Miriallia hide an amused smile behind her teacup.

Escaping Lacus's hospitality at the end of the afternoon proves to be difficult. After refusing a fourth cup of tea and her umpteenth small cookie, Miriallia reaches for her camera bag and says, "I shouldn't keep you from your work any longer." She casts about for a suitable excuse. "I have some more pictures I need to take for _The Sentinel._"

"Is Dearka helping you with that, Miri?" Kira asks. Miriallia's glad she refused that last cookie; Kira's question would have made her choke on it. "He said he would pick you up after you were done here."

"Did he?" Miriallia keeps her murderous thoughts to herself as Kira and Lacus exchange significant glances.

And right on cue, the comm on Lacus's desk buzzes, and her secretary announces Dearka's arrival.

Kira and Lacus send them off with identical fond smiles; it's scary how many expressions they're beginning to share. Miriallia manages not to roll her eyes as she accompanies Dearka out.

#

"How else was I supposed to know when your interview would be done?" Dearka says mildly, when she asks him why Kira and Lacus knew of their meeting.

"You could have asked me," she snaps, ignoring the curious looks she's getting from rank and file ZAFT soldiers for being openly rude to a commander.

"I didn't have your number or the name of your hotel."

He has a point. She changes the subject. "So what's the plan for today?"

"Kira told me you came in with him and Athrun, which means you haven't had time to see much of the colony. I thought you might want a tour. I do know it rather better than you do, and I figure I owe you one after Orb."

It's a generous offer on his part, one that acknowledges their old friendship without presuming too much upon their old intimacy. She appreciates that, and falls in with his suggestion. To her surprise, Aprilius One turns out to be not unlike Heliopolis. Away from the government districts, with their crowds of uniformed bureaucrats and soldiers, it's pretty much like any other well-established space colony: a bit too sterile to ever be mistaken for Earth, but very comfortable despite that. And when the lights begin to dim for the colony's scheduled nightfall, Dearka takes her to a place in the colony's central hub, high above the city, where the view from the windows instantly makes her open her camera bag.

He doesn't say anything as she takes picture after picture of the vistas before them. The windows from the lookout don't just face down: they also face out, toward open space, where the hourglass shapes of other PLANT settlements are the brightest lights in the sky.

Eventually her camera beeps, indicating its memory chip is full. She has extra ones, but she decides it's a good time to put her camera back in its bag.

"Thank you," she tells Dearka.

"Not a bad peace offering, huh?"

"A pretty good one," she admits. They stare out down at Aprilius One's lights in silence for a while, and it reminds her of being back in Orb, back when the other war had just ended. "So what's your story, Dearka? Where is ZAFT sending Commander Elsman next?"

"Ask Lacus. I'm waiting for my assignment, like everyone else. They could give me a ship, or a desk job in one of the colonies. Or even on Earth."

"Still serving at ZAFT's convenience. Some things don't change."

"Same old story, I guess. I've been a good pilot, and a decent second-in-command. I don't know how I'll do as a commander, but I'll try to keep my people alive. Of course, if I'm unlucky, I'll be stuck with Yzak for another tour of duty." His grin tells her he wouldn't really mind that at all. "So I could be here today, gone tomorrow. What about you? How long will you be staying, now that you've finally made it this far?"

"My assignment is to cover Lacus's installation as chairwoman. When this story is over, I'll go to the next one."

"It must be nice to be your own master. I remember you didn't like anyone telling you what to do."

"It is. Most of the time, at least."

He goes on in the same light tone. "To be honest, I'd been thinking of contacting you, even before you showed up and nearly gave me a heart attack at Lacus's press conference. I didn't want to make myself into a pest, but I thought I could at least ask you for a reason." A pause. "It was the first time I'd been dumped so, well, abruptly."

She winces. "I probably could have handled that better. But I don't think it was a bad decision on my part. It was the right thing for me to do at that moment."

"I wasn't really that surprised, all things considered. But what's the right thing for you now, Miriallia Haw?"

She knows what he's asking. And after a single afternoon back in his company, it's easy for her to remember what drew them together the first time--the warmth of his attention when it was focused solely upon her, and the security of being with someone who never expected her to be her old Heliopolis self. But she's come too far to start looking backward now.

"These days I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Taking pictures, recording stories, seeing the universe."

"That's not an answer."

"No," she says gently. "I think it is."

#

She writes through the night and sends her interview and photos of Lacus to her editor at _The Sentinel _from her hotel's business office in the morning. Once the clerk confirms the successful transmission of her files, Miriallia decides that she's done with work for the day. She loads an empty memory chip into her camera and sets out to explore the surrounding neighborhood.

It's bland in the way that city centers often are, with block after block of lofty government offices and very little street life. But ranging further, she finds a more down-to-earth district of shops and restaurants and modest residences. She spends some time in one of the bookstores, then sits down at a sidewalk café to get her afternoon caffeine fix. She's giving her order to a server when she's interrupted by a voice from a neighboring table. "Excuse me? Miss?"

The speaker's one of three middle-aged women sitting at the table to Miriallia's right. The other two are absorbed in a chess game, and they don't even spare Miriallia a glance when she says, "I'm sorry, but were you speaking to me or her?" She nods toward the server.

"You. You're from Orb, aren't you? The accent's hard to miss."

"That's right. It's just like yours."

"You got it." The older woman waves toward an empty chair at her table. "Come join us. There's no point in sitting alone. And I wouldn't mind news from Orb, if you have any."

"I do," says Miriallia. She tells the server to bring her drink to the other table, then moves into the empty seat. "That's my business. I'm a journalist, after all. Miriallia Haw, at your service."

"Oh, is that what brought you here? Work?" says her new friend. "I'm Kana. She's Saki, and she's Mai. They'll ignore us until their game is done." The two other women look up at their names, then turn their attention back to their board.

"I'm covering Chairman Clyne's first days in office."

"Ah, I see. And I thought you might be a new arrival. A lot of Coordinators immigrated here from Orb between the wars."

"I'm not a Coordinator."

"That so? Don't see many Naturals here at all. But what's Orb like these days? I haven't been back since before the first war."

Miriallia tells Kana about the political situation in Orb until Saki and Mai finish their chess game and join the conversation. Then her coffee arrives, and the talk goes back to personal matters. She learns that Saki and Mai are also immigrants from Orb, and that each of the women has her own story about how she ended up in PLANT.

"I followed a job here twenty years ago," Kana says. "Biotechnology. The work stayed here, thanks to Blue Cosmos, and so did I."

"I followed Kana," Mai says, taking Kana's hand with a fond smile. "But I'd always wanted to come anyway. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to space if they had the chance?"

"I'm a new arrival," Saki says. She's a bit younger than Kana and Mai, and she wears a wedding band. "I came here after the last war. My son died when the Earth Alliance invaded Orb, and the rest of my children had come out years before. So there was no longer a reason to put off emigrating."

Miriallia tells them about herself in turn, though she leaves out all the classified details. By now, she's used to telling her own story; during her travels she's had many conversations like this one in hotel restaurants and airport lounges. And when her new friends discover that this is Miriallia's first visit to PLANT, Kana and Mai instantly begin to offer suggestions about things she should do and see before she leaves. Saki stays quiet for a while, but finally scolds her friends, saying, "Leave the girl alone. I'm sure she can manage her own time."

"I don't mind," Miriallia says. "Though I might not have time to do any of the things you suggest. But would you mind if I took a picture? Since you've been so kind?"

She's just lowering her camera when the server returns with their checks. "Oh," says the girl, accustomed to the vagaries of tourists. "Would you like me to take one of all you together? As long as you tell me what buttons to push."

Miriallia gives some hasty instructions, but the photo comes out blurry anyway; even the best directions can't make a professional camera as easy to use as a regular point and shoot. Still, it's Miriallia's favorite snapshot of the day, and back in her hotel room, she looks at it for a long time before reaching for the phone and dialing the number that Dearka gave her the previous night.

#

He sounds distracted when he answers. "Elsman here."

"So I have this idea that I thought you might want to hear."

"Miri?"

"I met some interesting people when I was out and about today. And what they made me realize is that there are more stories to tell here in PLANT than I'd originally thought. More photographs that someone ought to take for posterity's sake. Because so much of what we hear about PLANT back on Earth is of ZAFT, but there are other people here. Civilians. Regular people who just happen to be Coordinators."

"Are you saying you might stay for a while?"

"I don't know how long," she says quickly. "But maybe a bit longer than I originally thought. And it would help if someone who knew PLANT better than I did could show me around."

There's a long silence, broken only by the crackle of a poor connection. "ZAFT could ship me out any day now, you know."

"I know. And I could follow my own career back to Earth at any time." She hesitates, then realizes that this is not a moment for dancing around the truth. "But I'd like to see you for as long as life puts us in the same place."

"I'm not going to be so easy to get rid of this time. You ought to know that."

"Ha. Well, I'm sure I'll manage if it proves necessary."

"It won't." His voice is suddenly confident, as if he's trying to make his words true just by saying them. "I mean--let's make sure it doesn't."

"Maybe you'll be right." She smiles, even though she knows he can't see it. "We can try."


End file.
